Marriage and Mental Illness (Sequel to Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles)

The First Married Case

I looked up at him, "Who was the first one the second time?" He continued to look at me before his eyes widened. "Gene Wilson. A gay man." I nodded, confirming what he thought.

"Gay men were first all three times. It's a pattern. Does it check out for the rest?" He pulled closer, searching for the pattern. I sat back, letting him search through.

"It does. Next was Lisa Jones, a latina woman the first time, Camila Santos, a latino woman the second time." He glanced back at me, a small smile playing on his lips. "We've got ourselves a lead. Who's next?" He flitted away and let me look for the next one in the pattern.

"A Korean man, Chul Lee, the first time, and then a Chinese-British man, Alec Dade, the second time." He nodded, his hands flying to their thinking spot under his chin. "Text Greg, we know who they'll be after next, East-Asian men." I pulled out my phone, tapping a quick text to Greg, before setting it back on the table.

"Should they notify the public? Tell others to be careful?" I asked, spinning the chair to face Sherlock. He cocked his head, considering.

"If they do, it'll give them what they want. The Soldiers want to be recognized, they want 'glory' from it, fame. If we do that, it gives them what they want. If we don't, more people could die." I nodded in agreement, neither was a good choice.

He sighed, shoulders caving in. "I don't know. Text Greg, let him do what he wants with it, it's not my decision to make." I raised an eyebrow, noting the inward curve of his shoulders.

"Why don't we stop for the day, love. It's seven in the evening, we've been working all day. You never even had lunch. It would be a good time to stop." I went to him, gently massaging his neck.

"You never call me 'love' when we're working," he scoffed, despite leaning back and into me. I kissed the spot I'd been massaging, before working lower. "We're not working right now," I whispered, my lips next to his ear. He smiled faintly, "I believe you're right, now would be a good time to stop." He turned to me, kissing me fully. I let him for a moment before pulling away, and into the kitchen.

"John!" He whined, hands suddenly empty.

"Not until you eat!" I called back, rifling through the kitchen. I swore lowly, there wasn't a whole lot to eat. "We can order in if you'd like," Sherlock had come through to the kitchen, and leaned back again the counter.

"It's getting late anyway." I made a face, closing the fridge door. "We're always eating out, that's not healthy. We should probably at least try to eat healthier." He snorted, crossing his arms.

"You sound like Mycroft, who always breaks his diet within days of starting. And besides, we're always running around London anyway."

I rolled my eyes, smiling faintly. I leaned in to kiss him before he stopped me. One finger rested against my lips, pushing me back. "Not until after I eat, remember?" he grinned, and I frowned. "I'll go order food online, darling." He left back to the sitting room to do so.

I made tea while we waited for the food to arrive. I was pouring the tea into mugs when Sherlock went to open the door for the food. He came back up with the food, setting it on the table. I set his mug down next to his container, smiling faintly.

The two of us chatted while we ate, letting go all of the stress of the case. Sherlock played the violin for a while, once again reminding me how much I had missed it. I simply sat and listened, enjoying the natural rise and fall of the music before he put it away at the end of the night. He held his hand out to me and hauled me to my feet. I smiled toothlessly and closed the gap between us.

I could feel him smile against my lips, his hands knotting in mine. He pulled away, sleepy. "Let's go to bed, John," he yawned. I lead him into our bedroom and climbed into bed. I fell asleep with his back pressed against my chest, our legs entangled.